A World Of Chances
by brunette987
Summary: And you'll just keep on forgiving him, and he'll just keep on hurting you. You've got a whole world of chances for him. oneshot.


A/N: Terribly random. I wrote this a while ago, and kind of forgot about it, actually. I'm not entirely sure what I think of it. Eh. So why don't you give me _your_ opinions?(: It's inspired by Demi Lovato's song A World of Chances. It's a great song, you should hear it.

**A World of Chances**

She has a world of chances for him. A whole world of opportunity, of re-dos, of starting over. It doesn't matter how many times he's broken her fragile little heart, how many times he's smashed her into pieces or how bad the hurt is this time or the next. She'll always have another chance for him to try again, even when she knows exactly what he'll do.

When you're sixteen years old, he takes your breath away. He's tall, dark and handsome and his rock star attitude is a turnoff until you get to know the person behind the guitar. He prefers meaningful lyrics over computer-digitalized pop beats and wants only to stop the façade he's forced to put on by the record label, to be his own person, to express himself through his music. The lake becomes your secret meeting place, and he plays you songs he won't show to anyone else and explains to you the complexities of being a superstar, never knowing who to trust, who likes you for you, and who's only after the fortune and fame. He talks about a mystery girl with 'the voice' and 'the song,' but you're so hypnotized by his eyes, his voice, his hair, his _everything_, that you barely even hear him.

It's no surprise that when, after your spur-of-the-moment duet at Final Jam, Shane asks you to be his girlfriend _(in a canoe on the lake – your lake),_ you say yes. Your heart flutters and your breathing gets shallower and your soul sings, and this is a high that you can only get from teenaged puppy love. He leans in to kiss you, and you lean too, and the kiss tastes like raspberries and honey, with a hint of sun block _(the smell of ultimate summer)._ The kiss is sweet and innocent and altogether perfect. Caught up in the moment, you didn't feel the canoe begin to tip, and then you're being plunged into the cold, cold water of that lake _(your lake)_ and you surface spluttering and gasping for air. Shane is holding onto the capsized canoe, bobbing in the wake, laughing, and you can't help but laugh too; it's a perfect moment, one you're sure you'll both remember forever. And he was your first kiss, but you weren't his; but that doesn't matter, because he's yours now _(all yours)_ and this will always be special.

**~ * ~**

**~ * ~**

He breaks your heart for the first time _(the very first time)_ only a month after Final Jam. You've gone back to school and he's gone back to being a rock star and it's the tabloids that break it to you that time. Cries of "Mitchie! Mitchie!" echoing down the hall at your high school and the sight of Sierra running toward you, waving a tabloid around are forever _(and ever and ever and ever)_ etched into your memory. You'll never forget looking at the trashy magazine and seeing Shane _(your Shane!) _lip locked with the one and only Tess Tyler, his hand dangerously close to her butt and her perfectly manicured nails tangled in his messy hair. You'll always remember the feeling of your heart shattering into a million tiny little pieces, the stinging of the tears that welled up in your eyes, the weight on your chest and is becomes harder and harder to breathe. You'll never forget locking yourself in a bathroom stall until final bell, or sprinting home to avoid the stares and pointing fingers and calls of "Still think you're dating the rock star, Torres?"

You burst through the door of your home before sprinting up the stairs to your bedroom. You pull out your phone and scroll to the S's in your contact list, staring at his name before you dial. And then you're waiting, waiting for him to pick up _(it was on the fourth ring)._

"Mitchie?" His voice sounds anxious.

"How could you?" You choke out, tears rolling down your cheeks.

He sighs on the other end of the line. "I'm sorry, Mitch," is all he says.

You hang up.

It's ten days of missed calls and voicemails and text messages before you call him back.

"Mitchie?" his voice has the same anxious edge from ten days ago, but it's more pronounced now, and this time, he answers his phone more quickly _(on the very first ring)._

"Shane," you say, and your voice cracks, and you're so angry because your voice wasn't supposed to crack and you weren't supposed to show this weakness.

"Oh, Mitch," Shane coos, the anxiety dying away, "don't cry, baby."

You never were able to hold a grudge.

**~ * ~**

**~ * ~**

It's been almost a year, and you're both back at Camp Rock, and it's like a big reunion. You're so caught up in the summertime happiness and nothing could possibly go wrong. It's open mike night, and you walk to Peggy and Ella's cabin to ask if you can borrow that one necklace of Peggy's because it would go oh so well with your dark green shirt. You begin talking as you open the door, not bothering to knock _(you should have knocked.)_

"Hey, Peg, you know that neckla –" You're words get caught in your throat as you take in the sight before you. Tangled hair, rumpled clothing, messy bedding and your boyfriend, shirtless, with a look of shock on his face. And there's Tess, fixing her hair, looking at you with a smirk on her face.

"Mitchie…" Shane starts.

"Save it," you tell him, before you run out the door.

And you can hear Tess' cackling laughter following you all the way.

You sprint to your own cabin in tears, and burst through the door to find your best friend sitting on her bed with her laptop and her headphones. She looks up as you come in, and immediately rips off her headphones and races toward you.

"Mitchie? Mitchie, what's wrong? What happened?"

"Shane," you choke out. "Tess…"

"Oh my God," Caitlyn says, wrapping her arms around you and leading you to your bed. "I _told_ you not to forgive a cheater, Mitch. I _told_ you."

And tell you she did.

You don't go to open mike night, though you send Caitlyn along without you. This time, it's a week _(seven short days) _of moonlight serenading and missed calls and text messages and knocks on your cabin door. Caitlyn tells him off. Tess is ostracized. Your eyes are endlessly wet. But "I Gotta Find You" at midnight really can change a girl's mind.

Your mind was made up by day five. You just made him wait another two days.

**~ * ~**

**~ * ~**

You're twenty years old and he still makes your heart melt. You come home from the recording studio one particularly long day to find twelve long stemmed white roses waiting for you on the kitchen table _(your kitchen table)._ You read the card. The message is simple: _I love you._ You smile and walk upstairs to find him. He's not in his "music room," or your bedroom. You stand in your room, wondering where he could be, when you hear his cell phone ringing. You pick it up from his bedside table to check the caller ID.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, and your eyes sting. You immediately drop the phone, as if it were on fire, onto the perfectly made bed. Just then, Shane comes bursting through the door _(he must have heard the ring). _He takes in the scene before him: you standing in the room, the phone now beeping indicating there's a voicemail.

"Mitchie," he begins.

"Tess?" you whisper. "_Tess,_ Shane?"

He lowers his eyes, ashamed, and you don't know what to believe anymore. You walk past him, through the door, down the stairs, and outside. You get in your car and drive away, just to be anywhere but here _(he doesn't come after you.) _

You get home at midnight. When you walk inside, the house is quiet. Shane left a single light on for you – he knew you'd be back. You look at the white, white roses on the kitchen table, as a single tear escapes. You pick them up and throw them into the trash. They probably weren't meant for you, anyway.

You sit at the table and grab a piece of paper and pen. You write his name at the top slowly, making each letter perfect. You are writing a goodbye – you'll leave the note and pack your bags and leave, and never come back. You write that you've had enough; you're done, finished, you don't want any part of this anymore. But suddenly, as you go to write "goodbye," the words are stuck in throat. You can't speak them, you can't write them. Shane Gray has treated you like dirt. _(And you love him anyway.)_ You crumple the paper, and throw it in the trash. You have a world of chance for him – you always have. Chances that he's burning through, one at a time.

The next morning, it's as if it'd never happened. And the roses are back on the kitchen table.

**~ * ~**

**~ * ~**

On your twenty-first birthday, he gets down on one knee and asks you to marry him _(and you say yes). _The wedding is perfect. Your dress is beautiful, the bridesmaids wear green _(a favorite color for you both) _and carry white roses. He says "I do," and so do you, and when he kisses you, it's like he means it.

Tess Tyler was not invited to the wedding. You dance with Shane at the reception. You look around to see Caitlyn dancing with Nate, Jason with Ella. All of your friends are there with you, to celebrate today. But you still can't help but notice the way Shane's smile doesn't reach his eyes. You lay your head on his shoulder.

"You've got a face for a smile, you know," you whisper.

"What was that, Mitch?"

"Nothing."

**~ * ~**

**~ * ~**

`You go back to Camp Rock again, this time as counselors. All of your friends go, too, and it's as if you're all sixteen again, carefree and happy. You haven't caught Shane with Tess since the phone call over two years ago, but you've ignored mysterious phone calls and late nights and inexplicable perfume on his jacket without question.

Tess is back, too. You watch Shane carefully, and then not so carefully _(because you're not sure if you really want to know)._

He takes you to your lake. He pushes you out in a canoe and jumps in after you. Your paddling skills have never been up to par, so you just drift, slowly, to the middle of the lake. The ring on your left finger catches the fading sunlight and throws glistening light everywhere. "We had our first kiss here," he tells you.

You nod. "I know." He leans and kisses you just like that time six years ago, but this time you don't tip the boat, and you don't feel the same kind of fireworks.

It's on the last day of camp that you notice he's missing. You go to ask him about what time you'll be leaving, and he's nowhere to be found. You walk down to the _(your)_ lake to look. And you hear his voice, but you can tell he's not alone. He's talking to someone. Your stomach drops to your feet, and you carefully and quietly make your way along the bank of the lake, through the trees, following the sound of his voice.

"What about Mitchie?" you hear someone whisper.

There's silence for a minute. "What about her?"

"Shane," she says. "She's your _wife._"

"I know." There's silence for a minute, and you know he's kissing her. What's left of your heart breaks for the millionth time since you met Shane Gray. It's a feeling that's become all too familiar and natural, like the sun rising in the morning and the moon at night.

You continue to make your way closer to the voices, looking for the golden blonde hair and shaggy black, but you can't find it. You finally see Shane, his back to you, and Tess in front of him, blocked from your view. Finally, you can't take it anymore; and you snap.

"Get away from my –" you stop before the word husband, because as Shane's head whips around and Tess comes into view, her hair is no longer golden blonde, but light, feathery brown. The straight locks have been replaced by bouncy curls, and the brown eyes staring back at you are so much softer than the piercing blue.

Caitlyn Marie Geller _(your best friend in the world)_ stares back at you, and the pity in her eyes hurts most of all.

The feeling of dread is weighing down on you like an unstoppable force, gravity at ten times its own pressure. Your head is spinning at a million miles an hour, and nothing is still, nothing is focused, except for the two people staring back at you _(the ones you're supposed to trust)_. Your knees feel like buckling, but something keeps the locked, a strength you didn't know you had as you refuse to show weakness, refuse to fall. It becomes harder and harder to breathe, and at the same time, your breath is coming faster and faster, dangerously close to hyperventilation.

"Oh my God. Mitchie, I –"

"_Caitlyn?_" You ask, and she lowers her eyes to the ground, embarrassed and ashamed of herself, but it doesn't even matter, because she and Shane just burned through the rest of their chances. That world of opportunity, re-dos, and starting over has been destroyed, used up, is gone.

Your head is shaking back and forth, and your right hand is ripping the diamond off your left. "You two deserve each other." And you throw the ring at your "husband" and run off.

The worst part is, no one comes after you.

**~ * ~**

**~ * ~**

Two years later, and you're finally getting over past experiences and moving on. You changed your phone number after Shane and Caitlyn tried to call you. You moved, too, to the complete other side of the country, to New York. You haven't talked to Shane or Caitlyn since that night. Shane signed the divorce papers and sent them back to you without question.

You're beginning to find your faith again, faith in everything, including yourself. New friends and new places have shown you a world of trust, free of betrayal. It's taken some getting used to, but you can feel the change, a shift in the overall feel of everything around you – and for once, it's a good one.

You often wonder about your changed phone number, and if the standard operator ever told anyone that the number was no good. Did it hurt? Was there pain at the realization that you were unreachable, distant, gone? Or was it just a dull numbness? Maybe they felt nothing. Maybe they didn't care. Maybe it was a weight lifted from their shoulders. And maybe they never even called.

Maybe the operator told them about your world of chances.

It's a Thursday afternoon, and you're watching TV. Shane Grey is still ever present in the tabloids, but his fame is declining and his fan base is thinning. Baby-face looks and shiny hair can only get you so far in the music industry.

His face pops up on the screen; it is E! News, after all. The story is about some new promotion. You consider changing the channel, but something stops you, your finger on the remote, and you watch the thirty second interview clip. You notice the dark circles under his eyes, the tiredness in his voice, and his disheveled hair. The years had not been so kind to him, it seemed. His look was overall run down, worn out. He just looked…tired.

The interview ended. The screen flashed. And it was on to the next topic. You heard the TV without really hearing it; you saw the picture without really seeing it. Instead, Shane Grey invaded your mind, and his voice rang in your ears.

You finally turn the TV off.

"You've got the face for a smile, you know."


End file.
